Willing the night,
to come to scare the day away,
and sat at work, with a tired heart,
wanting the day to run away,
wanting work to finish, and wanting to play,
wanting to escape, with an eye on the time,
wanting the day to end, without too much stress and strain,
and for the day to not drive you insane,
wanting happiness, but suffering the boredom,
the boredom of the mundane working day,
wanting pleasure instead of pain,
as the time it ticks far too slowly bye,
and the hands turn as if in slow motion,
a nine to five torture, that drives you insane,
as you sit staring far too often into space,
not able to concentrate,
and definitely not able to enjoy your day.